


Sistinas

by ourdramaqueen



Category: Sin City, Sin City (2005)
Genre: Abuse, Bloodplay, F/M, Knifeplay, Pre-Canon, Scarification, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:25:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourdramaqueen/pseuds/ourdramaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the Old Town girls encounters an enigmatic figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This is a bizarre little story - some may even call it sick. Don't complain I didn't warn you, if you choose to go ahead. :)
> 
>  
> 
> I admit it: I'm hopelessly in lust with a mute cannibalistic serial killer.
> 
> I found the character of Kevin in the Sin City comic fascinating, but only crossed the line from fascination to obsession when I saw Elijah Wood's portrayal of him: silent, smooth and deadly like a cat on the prowl.
> 
>  _And the claws, Precious, the claws..._
> 
> *Ahem* Where was I? Oh right... obsession.
> 
> It's amazing what your mind can come up with while you wait for your flight at the airport. I had been wondering about Kevin's backstory, and suddenly this whole scenario played itself out in my head... Yup, I got bitten by a plotbunny, and a very persistent one too!
> 
> When I wasn't able to do anything about it, it backed off for a while, but then came back with a vengeance several weeks later. So I didn't have a choice but to exercise it the only way possible: By writing the story. And here it is, with thanks to Elanor Gardner for helping with a certain quote, and special thanks and Big Kisses to Ismenin and Lady Sunrope for their invaluable help and encouragement. This is dedicated to you, Ladies!
> 
> If you are wondering where the title of this story comes from, you can find out [here](http://www.ourdramaqueen.com/writingroom/sincity-sistinaslyrics.htm).

It's the softest of noises that catches my attention. It's late at night, or some would say early morning, and it's raining--drizzling really--as I walk home after a long night shift. I can let my mind drift here, without having to be afraid of being ambushed from the next dark alley. Old Town is our turf, and no one would dare to try anything here. The few who did, didn't survive long enough to regret it.

It was a good night; some of my best customers have visited, and yet I find myself in a melancholy mood. I have more freedom and safety than I ever had before in my life, I have friends who would literally kill for me, a nice apartment, money enough to live comfortably if not in luxury... and yet lately I've been feeling as if something is missing.

I'm still trying to work that out when I hear the sound. I'm not sure what it is, but it seems to have come from down this small little alley, which leads to the edge of Old Town. My curiosity peaked, I walk into the shadow, careful not to make a noise, thinking maybe it's a cat or dog.

When I come close to the end of the alley I look out over a small courtyard. I see the back door of a seedy club, and in the flickering light of the single bulb above it, movement near the trash bins standing a bit to the side. A figure, hunched over... bodies? Rocking gently, and over the pitter-patter of the rain I can just make out a soft voice, but can't distinguish any words.

I'm curious to know what happened here, but this is not Old Town anymore, and I don't want to get involved. I'm about to leave when I notice a shadow moving to the left, and another one--no, two--to the right, moving in on the crouching figure.

I don't know why, but even as I step back further into the shadow of the alley, I call out a warning, turning and walking away before I can see if the lone stranger heard me. Suddenly I sense more than hear movement behind me, and before I can turn I feel a blow that almost misses my head, but is still strong and surprising enough to fell me. A man--he must have been closer to me than the others I had seen--pins me to the ground and big strong hands close around my neck. I claw at his hands, try to push him off, but it's useless. I struggle, try to force air down my windpipe as he squeezes, but it's not coming, and I start to panic.

 _Stupid girl, getting yourself killed for an outsider!_

Stars start dancing before my eyes, and my arms sink down at my sides as my strength leaves me. All I can think of is that I always wanted to ride a horse and I never will. The last thing I see is a shadow appearing behind my attacker, then darkness takes me.

*************

I wake up with a start, taking in air in big gulps.

 _What a nightmare,_ I think, _Except for the singing._ Singing? That's right--I dimly remember hearing a voice sing to me--a voice so beautiful, almost angelic, that it made me cry.

Still caught in the memory of my dream I lift my hand to rub my neck, surprised to find it hurts and is sore to the touch. And only then I notice my surroundings in the daylight, dimmed by thick drawn curtains. Not my own apartment, not any apartment I know. I'm in a room that looks more like a prison cell, but when I look beyond the bars in front of me, I see a normal kitchen/living room area.

 _Where am I?_

I gasp when my eyes move to the left and discover a young man stand inside a door to another room. He is standing so utterly still that I didn't notice him at all until I looked right at him. Small, lithe, startlingly blue eyes behind glasses looking at me dispassionately--and yet aware, alert.

I have to clear my throat before I can speak, and even then my voice is rough. "Where am I?"

He doesn't reply, instead moves to the fridge, taking out a bottle then reaching for a glass from the cupboard. He fills it with liquid and carries it over, stretching his arm through the bars to present it to me. I get up from the cot, and when I reluctantly take the glass, I can't help but notice his fingernails, longer than my own. They look healthy and very sharp, reminding me of a cat's claws.

I sniff the liquid, take a small sip--water. Deciding that he could have drugged or killed me while I was unconscious if he had wanted to, I drink it all in small sips. The cool liquid feels good to my throat. I hand the empty glass back to him with a thank you, and he wordlessly carries it over to the kitchenette, putting it in the sink.

"You haven't replied to my question yet," I try again. "Where am I? And who are you? Why am I here?"

Silence.

"Do you understand me?"

He nods.

"Can't you speak?"

He nods.

"You can speak?"

Again a nod, and... am I imagining things or does he almost look embarrassed? Things are starting to become clearer in my mind now, and I suddenly remember the shadowy figure appearing behind my attacker just before I fainted.

"You... you saved my life, didn't you? Was it you who I saw? The one the others attacked?"

Another nod, accompanied by a solemn look.

I shake my head, almost bemused that this tiny guy should have overcome four foes... but something tells me not to underestimate him. "Why did you help me?"

He shrugs, finally whispers so softly that I can hardly hear, "You... shouted."

"So you can speak," I tease, softening my words with a smile, but it doesn't stay on my lips long. "Thank you. And thank you for making sure I'm all right." I hesitate a moment, but decide to press on. "I'd better get home now, before anyone misses me and they call a search party."

He doesn't move a muscle.

"Would you let me out please? I can assure you I can take care of myself."

Still nothing.

"Oh, I see... you want repayment? I guess it's the least I can do for you..." I give him a lascivious smile as I curl my fingers around the bars and stretch my body languorously.

For a moment he just blinks at me, seeming utterly nonplussed, before he looks me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time: my high heels, fishnet stockings, skimpy outfit, generous cleavage and blood-red lips. When his eyes return to mine, the look inside them is impossible for me to interpret. Suddenly he turns without a word and without paying heed to my protests walks out of the apartment.

He leaves me behind utterly confused. _Fuck. What did I get myself into here_?


	2. Chapter 2

I sink down onto the cot, resting my head in my hands. The irony of it all makes me laugh. _Ran away from a golden cage--well, silver at any rate--and now I ended up in a cage again_. My parents were quite well off so I lacked nothing growing up... except their love. Still it had taken me a long time to find the courage to leave the golden cage and run away. I wouldn't go back for all the money and comfort in the world. Not even now. _This can't be worse. Right?_

There are no clocks and I don't have a watch, but my gut tells me that several hours have passed, and my captor hasn't come back yet. I suppress the ridiculous thought that I've been left here to starve. _You only think that because you're hungry,_ I tell myself firmly. _Why would he want me dead if he's grateful for me warning him? And he did save my life, didn't he? Yet why would he keep me here if not for sex?_ I study the bars. Tried the door as soon as he'd left, but no dice. And with my stiletto knife gone--he must have taken it--I don't even have anything to try and mess with the lock. The only other door leads to a tiny, old--and surprisingly clean--lavatory. _Does he want to keep me here as his pet?_ But he doesn't really look like a psycho. _Yeah I know, not everyone who_ is _a psycho looks like one..._ I sigh in frustration. _Fuck, if he'd talk I could at least get some information out of him!_

The sudden noise of the door opening scares me out of my thoughts, and in he comes on silent feet, a paper bag in his arms.

"Damn, you gave me a scare!"

He gives me a brief lopsided smile, then carries the bag over to the counter and starts taking out various groceries. I don't have the energy to start grilling him, so I just watch as he moves about silently and, I notice, rather gracefully. Within a short time the scent of cooking fills the room, and my stomach starts growling. I realize I haven't eaten since before the beginning of my shift. No wonder I'm feeling so weak.

Finally he carries over a small tray with a plate and another glass of water, holding it in his left hand while unlocking the cell door with his right, and locking it again after he enters. He doesn't seem out to harm me and I don't feel strong enough to try anything, so I decide to go along for now.

Silently he sets the tray down nextto me on the cot. The omelet looks and smells delicious. "Thank you... I was really getting hungry." He starts to turn away, so I quickly add, "Will you at least tell me what I should call you? I can't just say, 'Hey you!' every time I want your attention, now can I?"

He seems to think about it, so I hold out my hand and tell him my own name, smiling.

He looks at my hand as if wary of the touch or that I might try something, then slowly lifts his. And before I know it, I find my hand in a tight grip and twisted outward, the smooth skin on the back of my forearm revealed.

I gasp, more from surprise than pain. "What...?" Instinctively I try to pull away and fight him, twisting my arm, but his grip is firm--too firm for me to break. I can feel panic start to rise--memories of when _they_ had grabbed me to mete out punishment flashing through my mind--but then I find those incredible eyes searching my face, and the claws of his other hand are delicately tracing lines down my skin as if he's thinking, wondering... sending shivers through me... _What the hell...?_ Then without warning the pressure increases and the claw on his index finger scores into my skin. I want to scream but then I realize that he has such control--blood is rising but it doesn't fall--and I find myself staring in fascination as with a look of utter concentration on his face, he carves letter after letter into my arm, mouth parted, teeth catching on his bottom lip... and I allow it to happen, I don't fight, because Jesus Christ, part of me wants this... One by one, he carves the letters into my skin:

He lightly traces his claws back over all of them as he turns my arm so I can read the name, and I have to fiercely suppress a moan that threatens to rise in my throat.

Gently he puts my hand into my lap; I want to hit him and scream, _What are you doing to me?!_ , I want to curl up in a ball and cry; I want to laugh hysterically... but instead of all this, I sit there frozen, staring at the name he carved into my skin, trying to grasp what just happened here.

Eventually he leaves, silent.

*************

Dinner over, Kevin washes the dishes and cooking utensils. I'm still too confused to talk, so I just watch, which he doesn't seem to mind.

He is quite tiny, a little smaller than me wearing my heels, and his age is hard to guess, but probably he's older than he looks. I don't think I've ever seen a guy with skin that smooth and pale, and it is even more accentuated by his dark hair. His eyes are of an intense blue, and they are the most fascinating and at the same time unsettling feature... for at times they are incredibly expressive, and the next moment the look inside them can be so utterly dispassionate that it seems his body is an empty shell. And then of course, there are his claws...

My eyes return to the scars in my arms, spelling out his name:

 _Such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary man._

I get distracted from my thoughts when the light goes out. I look up just in time to see Kevin withdraw to the other room, closing the door without even acknowledging my presence.

"Well, good night to you too," I mutter, shaking my head. After a last look around the now dark apartment I give in to the inevitable and lie down on the cot, curling up on my side and thinking about my strange captor and his disturbing ways. I can feel myself starting to drift off to sleep. My thoughts drift off too, roaming freely as they often do just before I fall asleep.

Suddenly my eyes fly open.

 _Oh fucking hell, what are you thinking, woman?_

I can dimly see his name on my skin even in the darkness, and somehow the memory of how he put it there has spiraled into fantasies... fantasies of what Kevin could do to me with these claws of his; fantasies that make a pleasant tingle spread between my thighs. I groan. _Fuck, they turn me on!_ I throw myself onto my back, wide awake now, and stare up at the ceiling.

And that is the shocking part, really. I enjoy my job well enough, but since before becoming one of the girls of Old Town three years ago I have never _wanted_ a man like this! I pray to whatever God is willing to listen that this is just a moment of insanity, that in the morning I'll wake up and ask myself what the hell was wrong with me.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

After not sleeping too well the previous night--and that's putting it mildly--it's no wonder I am bleary-eyed and not in the best mood when I wake up to Kevin moving about the apartment. Actually he's remarkably silent, as usual; I can't hear his tread. The only noises I do hear come from the utensils he uses making what looks like breakfast.

Again he brings it to me on a tray, and I stretch and sit up so he can put it down next to me on the cot. For a moment this feels ridiculously like back home, breakfast in bed on a lazy Sunday, but I quickly shake off that memory, concentrating on the present--and my future.

"Will you let me go today?"

My voice is still raspy from sleep, but I see from the way he stiffens that Kevin has understood me. For a moment he busies himself with rearranging the things on the tray, before he straightens, shaking his head.

I'm getting frustrated by his lack of response, but try to keep my tone friendly. "Why not? I won't tell anyone what I've seen, nor about meeting you, if that's what you're afraid of. Whatever happens outside Old Town is none of my concern." I pause, but again no reply. "What do you want of me, Kevin? Why are you keeping me here?"

His eyes remain fixed on the tray; I'm so fed up of his silence that I throw the tray to the floor, feeling cold satisfaction as glass and crockery shatter loudly, but it's not enough to vent my pent-up frustration. "Why won't you fucking tell me what's going on here? Oh I should just have let them get you!"

That finally gets his attention. He gives me a _look_ , turns on his heels and retreats behind the other room's closed door from a further barrage of verbal vitriol I throw after him.

*************

Hours later, he still hasn't emerged again, and I'm almost going up the wall with boredom. I ate what little food hadn't spilled onto the floor and drank the water that had remained in the miraculously undamaged bottom half of the glass. I pushed all the shards and spilt food together in a pile, careful to get the small glass splinters especially--I didn't want to cut my feet on them. That was hours ago, and with nothing to do, my mind has a tendency to wander into dangerous directions... Regret about having shouted at Kevin, or further down the path it went last night. I groan, about ready to claw out my eyes.

 _If only that would help!_

I stop my pacing and lean against the bars, admitting defeat. For now. "Kevin? I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it... that I should have let them get you. You have to understand me... wouldn't you want to know what is waiting for you if you were in my position?" Silence, of course. I sigh. I really am sorry, a little at least. It's not like he didn't deserve it, but I let my temper get the better of me, which always means trouble--usually for me.

"Okay, if you want to keep me here, at least give me something to do! Can I have a book or something?" I have always been a voracious reader, and our house had its own library. The books were my sole escape when... I shake my head.

 _Don't go there!_

Nothing happens for a long time, and I've almost given up hope when the door opens to reveal Kevin with a pile of books in his arms. His face wears an almost-frown, matching his forbidding look as he hands the volumes to me in between the bars, one after the other:

'The Holy Bible'

 _Honey that's wasted on me,_ I think, but keep my mouth shut, not wanting to offend him again.

'The Agony and the Ecstasy'

'Oliver Twist'

'The Borgias'

'The Shoes of the Fisherman'

'Meditations Among the Tombs'

'Rembrandt's Eyes'

As I see the next book, my eyes widen.

'The Neverending Story'

"Oh... that was one of my favorite books when I was a child. I haven't read it in ages." My fingers brush his when he hands me the last book; I give him a hesitant smile. Kevin doesn't return the smile, but his eyes soften, his brow smoothing as if the frown had never been there. Then he quickly turns away and leaves the apartment.

I remain standing there, clutching the books against my chest.


	4. Chapter 4

Is it crazy to feel sorry for having shouted at my captor? For feeling that he was very generous to me, giving me so many books when I had been so horrible to him? For feeling grateful that the frown was gone before he left? These thoughts make me stop when I open the first book, but I force them to the back of my mind. I did more than enough thinking these past hours, now it's time for some reading.

I find myself just as engrossed in 'The Neverending Story' as I was the first time I ever read it. I forget everything around me as I tear through page after page.

Yet I still seem to suffer from lack of sleep, as one moment I'm reading, the next I find myself jerking awake, cheek resting on the open book.

 _Great. First I complain I need something to do, and when I do, I fall asleep..._

It must be after noon--I've been reading quite a lot and I also feel quite refreshed, so I must have had a good sleep. I set the book down on top of the pile I made of the others, open pages facing down so I can easily find where I stopped. As I sit up, my eyes scan the apartment, and stop at the door to the other room, slightly ajar. Seeing Kevin in profile, without glasses and holding a shirt in his hand, I realize that his features remind me of classical Greek statues and Pre-Raphaelite paintings. Before my inner voice can swear at me for checking him out, Kevin turns away, and my mouth literally falls open as I stare at his back... pale skin riddled with scars, just like the backs of his arms.

He hears my gasp and whirls around, obviously mortified. I'm so sickened by what I saw that I have difficulty to find my voice. Kevin moves to shut the door, but finally I manage to force words past the lump in my throat. "Who did this to you?"

He stares at me, standing frozen, hand on the doorknob. I rise from the cot and walk closer to the bars, then turn. With shaking hands I brush my hair forward over my right shoulder, then undo the lacings at the front of my corset and lower it, showing Kevin my own back... riddled with scars, faint now, but still there.

An unexpected gentle touch sends shivers down my spine and almost brings tears to my eyes. I never allowed anyone to see or touch these scars--never let my clients embrace me or fuck me from behind when my back is naked--but somehow this is different, because he _knows_. I release a deep breath, almost a sigh, I didn't know I was holding; the fingers withdraw quickly, as if I burned them.

Fighting down a whirlwind of emotions, I concentrate on lacing up my corset before I turn to face Kevin. His hands are gripping two bars so hard that his knuckles are white, and I expect the iron to break any moment.

"My parents... both of them," I explain, finding the hatred and pain still there, even though I haven't seen or heard from them in years. I don't even know if they are still alive.

Kevin looks at me, and nods.

"Where are they?" I ask softly, an image flashing through my mind.

 _A figure, hunched over... bodies?_

"Dead," is the whispered answer, and the look in his eyes confirms my suspicion. I find that I can't blame him.

"This..." I gesture to indicate the cell, "This is where they... kept you?"

 _At least mine kept me in a golden cage_ , I think bitterly, _Cold comfort as it was to me._

Kevin lowers his eyes; on an impulse I cover his hand with mine, earning a surprised look from him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, quickly turning to stand in front of the cot, hugging myself. I'm not quite sure what I'm apologizing for, or if I'm crying for Kevin or myself... or both of us.

After a while I can hear the door to the other room close, and Kevin doesn't emerge for a long while. We are both quiet and withdrawn the rest of the evening.

Later when I sleep, the angelic voice I had dreamed of that first night sings to me of solace and comfort.

*************

The next day I don't ask if he will let me go or what he wants with me. Instead I find myself telling Kevin about my family, and how I ended up in Basin City. He doesn't speak a single word, but I know he listens intently--more intently than anyone has ever listened to me. It feels strangely releasing.

He watches me as I eat, and I find that I don't mind, despite his intense stare. After he comes back from wherever he always goes during the day, Kevin indicates I should read to him from 'The Neverending Story', and so I do. He sits on the floor outside my cage cross-legged, back against the bars, unmoving for the longest time. I read until my voice grows hoarse, and he brings me a glass of water before turning off the light and retreating to the other room for the night.

Again the Angel sings in my dreams.

*************

I'm starting to miss him when he's gone. It's crazy, but I do. Somehow I got used to Kevin's presence, even if I can hardly ever hear him move about, even if he doesn't utter a single word the whole day.

I don't know what to think of him. On the one hand I know he murdered his parents-- _But that is hardly inexcusable. If I had had more guts, who knows..._

I shake my head and steer my thoughts back to my present concern: Kevin, who on the one hand is a murderer, but on the other hand seems to be a gentle, kind young man.

 _Oh yes, a gentle, kind young man who likes to carve words in others' skin. Maybe he's only waiting for the right moon phase to kill you_ ,my inner voice pipes up.

I shake my head. _That's crazy. I ended up here by chance, not because he abducted me for some ritual involving human sacrifices./i >_

 _  
_So? Maybe you two just met at the right moment. Or the wrong one, depending on the perspective._   
_

_And maybe he's a reincarnation of Buddha. So what? He's too strong for me and I don't have anything I can use as a weapon, so I'll not drive myself crazy with the Ten Most Horrible Theories about What Kevin Could Have Planned for Me!_

I can almost see the sneer.

 _No, instead you drive yourself crazy with fantasies..._

 _Shut the fuck up! Just because I'm..._ I sigh in frustration. _I don't think he ever had anyone who understood him, or really cared about him. I want to help him, that's all._

Ignoring the laughter in my head, I pick up the next book on the pile--'The Borgias'--and try to read.


	5. Chapter 5

Kevin has finally come back after a particularly long absence. He seems excited and bouncy for some reason, and after dinner, I finally find out why. The paperback volume he holds out to me is old and battered, but I hardly dare touch it, so precious is it to me:

'The Princess Bride'

I had mentioned this book as my favorite ever, and now he went and got it for me. I don't even care how he got it, but... _He got it. For me. Because he knew I loved it._

I slump down onto the cot, carefully holding the book against my chest, and look up at Kevin wide-eyed, hardly seeing him through the rising tears. He frowns in concern and kneels down in front of me; for a moment it seems as if he wants to reach out for me, but then he waves his hand in a confused, questioning way, palms up.

I smile through my tears, shaking my head. "It's alright... I just... oh you have no idea..." I look down at the book again, caress its cover. "Thank you."

When he smiles his face is lit from within, and my heart hurts for what his parents have taken from him.

He gestures for me to read, so I wipe off my tears, settle into a comfortable position on the cot, and begin with the introduction: _"This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it... "_

I read the whole book that night, and Kevin is a wonderful audience. Again he is sitting on the floor and leaning against the bars, but this time inside the cage. He is sitting utterly still, but whenever I glance up from the pages, I can see in his eyes how much he enjoys the story.

 _"...But I also have to say, for the umpty-umpth time, that life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all."_

I don't know why, but I feel melancholy when the book ends and I just stare at the last words, until suddenly Kevin is standing next to me to take the dinner tray from my cot.

I touch his arm, squeezing it gently. "Thank you. I enjoyed tonight... a lot."

On an impulse I lean forward to press a kiss to his smooth cheek, and for the first time I am close enough to him to smell...

 _Oh, what is this?_

It's like a combination of citrus and spices... something warm and sunny... I realize that I haven't pulled back, that Kevin is looking at me wide-eyed, but all I can think is, _He smells good enough to eat_ , and all I can look at are his cupid's lips, parted oh-so-invitingly...

I lean in again, turning my head just this much, and...

 _Oh._

So incredibly soft...

My eyes fly open--when did I close them?--as Kevin abruptly shrinks back. He's now sitting next to me, hands gripped into fists at his sides, shaking his head, but it seems more to clear it than in negation. His blue eyes burn into mine; my inner voice is shrieking at me but I can hardly hear it over the wild beating of my heart.

His eyes, which can be so cold and empty, now reveal everything to me: his longing, hope and need, but also his uncertainty, fear and pain.

"Don't you know that I am yours?" I whisper, taking his hand into mine, brushing his fingers over the fading letters adorning my arm:

His eyes follow his hand before they search mine again. So close...

Something flickers in his eyes, and abruptly he pushes me back, stands and flees the cell.

I blink, shocked about what just happened between us and confused about Kevin's sudden retreat. Questions are tumbling over each other inside my head as I watch him ignore me, turning off the lights before he retreats to his room, eyes firmly on the floor all the time. I want to scream at him, demand an explanation, but all that escapes my tight throat is a single word:

"Kevin?"

I don't care that my voice is pleading and full of pain and confusion, that I am standing gripping the metal bars so hard my knuckles stand out white. All I care about is to get something from him, any inkling that he is or isn't angry with me, any hint at what it was I did or said wrong...

Kevin freezes when he hears my voice, and after long moments slowly looks up, but I can barely see his eyes behind his glasses in the dark. He sighs wearily, reaches up to take off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Glasses still in hand, he crosses the distance between us, making my heart beat faster. I have to suppress my desire to reach out to him as he stops on the other side of the bars, afraid that he would flee my touch. Kevin's left hand rises, and for a moment I foolishly hope he might... but then it closes around another bar, at a safe distance so it won't touch mine. There is no anger in his eyes, but the pain and loneliness and longing are still there, and they cut straight into my heart, his sad, resigned smile taking away my breath.

"Kevin..."

He gently shakes his head, and all I can do is watch with tears in my eyes as he puts his glasses back on and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I slide down to the floor shaking, more confused than ever, only knowing that somehow I caused him pain, and that I'd give anything if I could turn back the clock and undo it.


	6. Chapter 6

I sigh, curling up against the soft cushion and idly contemplating if I should get up or let myself fall back asleep again. It's the noises and voices that roused me from my deep sleep... I frown, trying to work out what is bothering me about the sounds I hear, but drift off again before I can give it any further thought. It's so nice to just lie there under the soft covers, feeling the sunshine on me...

 _What?!_

My eyes fly open, my head jerks up, and for a moment I think I'm going crazy as I stare at my surroundings. No bars, no kitchenette... just a bedroom.

 _My_ bedroom.

I look down at myself--I'm still wearing the same clothes as that fateful night, and my shoes lie next to the bed. My mind is reeling. It did happen once or twice before that I went home and slept in my clothes because I was too tired to even undress... For a moment I am almost relieved.

 _It was all just a dream... it must have been!_ And yet... _The memories... they are so clear in my head!_

And there is one particular memory that even now sends heat coursing through my veins, and a blush of shame into my cheeks. Irresistibly, my eyes are drawn to the inside of my arm.

 _Oh... God._

They are there, faint, but still visible:

I stare at the scars, trying to comprehend what this means, trying to think clearly through the fog clouding my brain.

The last thing I remember before waking up here is lying curled up on the floor of my cell in Kevin's apartment. I must have fallen asleep eventually, and somehow Kevin must have brought me here... the window is open; did he carry me up the fire escape? But how could he get me here without waking me? _He must have drugged me! That's why my head feels like it's wrapped in cotton._

And that realization is followed by another one.

 _He sent me away!_

 _But didn't you want that?_ my inner voice asks, exasperated.

 _I did... But not like this, not... I thought..._ I blink back the tears that are rising in my eyes. _I don't know what I thought._

Before I have time to examine my feelings further, I hear my doorbell ring, and a voice calling my name.

"Are you there, darling? You better open that door right now or I'll kick it in, and then I'll come kick your ass!"

I can't help a smile. Gail, who else? But my smile falters - I will need to explain my absence to my friends. How many days has it been anyway? And I better not let them see the scars. Quickly I slide out of my clothes and into my nightgown, while Gail pounds on my door and starts counting back from ten.

"All right, I'm coming!" I run to the door, taking a second to make sure I look like I've only just woken.

*************

It's late in the evening when I finally have some peace and quiet - or quiet at least, as I certainly don't feel peaceful. In fact, I don't feel anything as I look around my apartment. I feel strangely out of place; it's as if my feelings have been amputated, or they disappeared under all the acting I just did in front of my friends. They had of course noticed my sudden absence, and when Gail had seen my open bedroom window, she'd come immediately to see if I was all right. One by one, they'd all come in from their shifts, while others left again as theirs began. I had dropped hints of a sudden family emergency, sorry I couldn't call - you know... I was careful not to go into too many details, let them fill in the blanks, and they seemed content with it, knowing I didn't like to talk about my family, but that I kept in touch with a few cousins.

Gail hadn't been convinced, but when I told her, "Look, if you'd rather hear a story about how I was kidnapped by some guy who kept me in a jail cell in his apartment, didn't want anything from me other than that I read him some books, and then just let me go, I can sure tell you that!" she'd relented.

Sometimes the truth _is_ stranger than fiction.

And now I am alone, and again I look around me - I always liked that this apartment was quite spacious, but now it seems too big, too empty, too silent. I sigh and decide to take a bath, which usually helps me to relax.

I sink into the hot water with a sigh, but even though it relaxes the tension in my back, tension from all the _pretending_ while the girls had been here, it can't help to loosen my mind. I sit in the tub, knees hugged against my chest, blindly staring into the water, suddenly noticing that I'm shivering. Blinking, I realize that the water has turned cold.

 _But that's impossible--surely I wasn't in here that long! How could I have lost track of time like this?_

With a resigned sigh, I get out of the tub and pull the stopper. Might as well try and get some sleep if I am dreamwalking anyway.

But as soon as my head hits the pillow, I am... not really awake, but also not really tired enough to fall asleep. Probably the drug Kevin gave me to knock me out is messing with my system, I tell myself. Maybe a cup of that herbal tea Nancy gave me will help.

Nightgown draped around me against the night breeze, I sit on the windowsill, knees hugged to my chest, staring up at the moon as I sip the surprisingly good hot tea.

I had been touched by how many of the girls had come by to tell me how happy they were to find me safe, but a part of me had just wanted them to leave me alone, to leave me in peace so I could think.

And now I sit here thinking, alone like I had wanted to be, yet feeling hollow and lonely. I am wondering how Kevin knew where exactly I lived--I had told him my name, true, but otherwise had only made a brief mention of the view out of my bedroom window. And how he'd drugged me... I'd probably never know. But these questions all pale in comparison to the one which won't let go of me, and which I can't find an answer to.

"Why, Kevin? Why did you bring me back?" The moon holds its counsel, and with an exasperated sigh I lean back my head against the window frame, closing my eyes.

 _You must have known... and yet you brought me back. Didn't just let me go, but brought me back... as if you wanted to make sure I'd be gone... that you would be rid of me for good._

 _Rejected. Unwanted. Is that it?_

With a string of curses I fling the almost empty teacup out of my window, releasing all the anger, pain and disappointment that I'd held on to since I'd woken up this morning in a loud scream. A cat screeches as the cup shatters on the fire escape, pieces raining down onto the street.

 _Curse you! And curse me for thinking... No, my inner voice was right; you're not good for me. One day I'll tell the girls about it and it'll make a good story, nothing more. Thank you for bringing me back here, back to my senses._

A wave of exhaustion sweeps over me after my sudden outburst, and I quite literally stumble into my bed. Soon I feel myself drifting off, and I'm in that almost-sleeping state when I faintly hear a voice that seems to drift in the open window. It is singing, and somehow the melody is familiar.

 _Such an angelic voice..._

A single tear escapes before sleep takes me.


End file.
